Records of the Beginning, Recollection of the End
by NakadaH
Summary: Major Spoilers for Drakengard, and possible minor spoilers for NieR. We try to understand the reasons for what happened. We seek answers, sifting through an ocean of knowledge, desperately trying to glean even a grain of understanding from the murky depths of time. But no matter how many answers we find, the questions outnumber them. Some things may be beyond reason.
1. Exile

**Record No: ACR_1228670N4 "Exile"  
**

When Finbarr Stoltenberg stepped through the doors of the UFJ bank near the train station, it was a quarter past two in the afternoon. The interior of the bank felt like a freezer after the merciless summer heat outside. The sweat running down his back under his blue business suit began to grow cold, intensifying the artificial chill of the air-conditioning units merrily humming away above the automated doors. Finbarr took a few moments to relish the drop in temperature, ill effects on his health be damned, and then stepped up to the counter. The woman sitting behind it was young, Finbarr guessed maybe 24, barely out of college. She smiled at him and bid him welcome. Self-conscious about his limited language skills, Finbarr said, in staggering Japanese:

"Good day. I would like to… um… Speak to a Mr. Taki… no, Mr. Takahashi, please."

The woman looked puzzled for a moment, then smiled again, a smile Finbarr had seen on many faces since starting to work in this peculiar country. The one which meant that he was in for yet another bout of misunderstanding and/or poor communication with the locals.

"Please wait one moment." The woman said in rudimentary English, making "moment" sound almost like "Mormon". Finbarr smiled back and nodded. Clearly wishing to be more hospitable, but lacking the necessary words – six years of studying English and this is it? Finbarr thought – the woman once again said "Please, one moment", indicating a row of chairs lined up by the window. Finbarr thanked her and took a seat, watching her hurry off to speak with her manager. A pretty little thing, Finbarr thought, looking at the woman's behind as she scurried along as fast as her high heels would allow. The women over here sure know how to take care of their looks. If only they had something in their heads, too. Then again, who does?

With a wry smile, he watched as the woman went behind the decorative screen obscuring the administrative part of the bank from public view, and leaned back in the chair. He could have killed for a smoke, but even a borderline illiterate like him could understand the sign with the crossed out cigarette fastened to the wall next to the door. They sell the damn things in vending machines in the street, but God forbid if you actually smoked them. In an attempt to distract himself from the craving of the good ol' nicotine, Finbarr produced from his pocket the one piece of Japanese culture he had really embraced, and got going.

The item in question was a kendama, a ball attached to a hammer-shaped handle with a string. It resembled a ball-in-a-cup, but had three indentations in which to catch the ball. Two of these made up the head of the "hammer", while the third was at the bottom of the handle. There was also a protrusion at the top of the head, which could fit into a hole in the ball. Finbarr had first seen one of these toys while visiting an acquaintance at his house, and had become smitten immediately. He had purchased a few for himself, and always carried one with him when travelling. Countless hours of practice had made him quite skilled, and he could consistently pull off most of the easier tricks, and was starting to learn a few more advanced ones. Back home, he would have been extremely self-conscious about playing with a child's toy in public, but since people here already stared at him just walking down the street, what harm could it do? Besides, it made for quite a good ice-breaker, and had actually gotten him some tail on occasion. But most of all, it served as a perfect distraction when boredom or, anxiety, threatened to suffocate him.

Now he sat there in the chair, playing with his kendama and waiting for the woman, she of the funky pronunciation and apologetic smile, to return with Mr. Takahashi. Finbarr was not sure if Mr. Takahashi would be willing to cooperate, but it was worth a shot.

The wooden ball landed in the base cup with a click. Finbarr tossed it up again and turned the handle to catch it in the next cup, while contemplating the best way to convince Mr. Takahashi to invest in Finbarr's company. He was well aware that his method of approaching potential investors was unorthodox, and had tasted his fair share of bitter rejection and sometimes outright ridicule over the years. But, as his father had been known to say: Winners never quit, and quitters never win. So Finbarr had simply decided never to quit. When Gerald had invited him to join his venture in Japan, to "carve our own path" as he so eloquently put it, Finbarr had seen it as a challenge, a way to prove to himself and to everyone else that he was indeed a winner. No way was he going to quit now. Deep down, he saw a very tragic side to his life. Yes, he, Gerald, and the other two headstrong young entrepreneurs who comprised the newly formed company had started to become quite successful. Yet he somehow felt like none of it really counted, as though any progress he made in his career over here would disappear like so much dust in the wind once he left the country to go back home. And what did he have to come back to? A senile old wreck who had once been his father, ever inspiring and sharp, now a mere shell of a man who spent his days reminiscing about a past that never was and occasionally pissing himself? A dead-end job at some two-bit consulting company? A suffocating sense of being useless and unappreciated? Hell, maybe even some reverse culture shock, feeling like an alien in his own hometown? Take your pick.

No fucking way. He had more or less sealed his fate the minute he stepped onboard the airplane four years ago. Trying to get big in Japan, leaving on a jet plane, get rich or die trying, a suitcase full of nothing in his empty hand. Insert your favorite appropriate song lyrics here. He was not that big yet, not exactly rich, but he sure as hell was not dead either. He was dead set to keep on trying, though. His father might have been reduced to just another gomer in the old folks' home, but the memory of his old teachings lived on. Winners never quit. Right you are, pa.

Clack. The ball landed dead center on the spike. Finbarr smiled, and his face brightened like a 60-Watt light bulb. It was a smile of genuine happiness, and it took several years off his features, prematurely aged with stress and exhaustion. Before he could realize that one of the few things (hell, just about the _only_ thing) that could make him feel so truly satisfied these days was a successful trick with a small wooden toy, he suddenly noticed the man standing in front of him.

"That's impressive!" the man said in English, with only a trace of an accent. Finbarr guessed he must have spent a few years abroad, in Australia maybe. "How long did it take you to learn that?"

Finbarr, still smiling, feeling relieved that the man he came here to see could speak English, answered: "About a year, give or take. I always keep it with me. Gives you something to do, you know?" He put the kendama back in his pocket and stood up. The man extended his hand, which gained him Finbarr's immediate approval. So many of these people seemed terrified of human contact. He shook firmly. "Finbarr Stoltenberg, pleased to meet you."

"Kengo Takahashi. Welcome. I hope everything went well on your way here."

"No problem. I've been here a few years now, so I can get around." He smiled again. "Still can't get used to the heat, though." Takahashi chuckled.

"Nobody can, Mr. Stoltenberg. Please come this way to my office."

Takahashi led him to a fairly large and modestly lit office, where Finbarr felt right at home. It reminded him of his own office, where he always had the blinds drawn. Takahashi pulled up a chair for him, and they both sat down, facing each other across the desk. A young woman, slightly older than the one who had greeted him before, entered with two cups of tea on a tray. She set it down on the desk, bowed, and left the room quietly. Finbarr produced his business card and handed it to Takahashi, who took it in both hands.

"I'm sure you've read about our company in the e-mail we sent you a few days ago. I'd like to thank you for taking the time to meet me today."

Takahashi looked up from the business card and smiled. "Not at all. It's my pleasure, Mr. Stoltenberg."

Finbarr was just about to start his sales pitch when he heard the bells. A few moments later, a deafening crash shook the building, followed by screams and panicked voices from outside. Finbarr grabbed onto the desk to steady himself. Takahashi leapt up from his chair and bolted to the window to look out.

"Is it an earthquake?" Finbarr asked. Takahashi shook his head, still looking out the window. The sound of bells was growing louder by the second. To Finbarr, it sounded like church bells at a wedding. The screaming and yelling did not fit the image.

"What is going on then? What's that sound?" He joined Takahashi by the window and peered out into the street. He could see people frantically running, all in the same direction, as if they were fleeing from something. The door to the office burst open, and the young woman from the counter stumbled in, speaking rapidly to Takahashi in Japanese, obviously terrified. Finbarr could not quite keep up with the exchange, but he thought he heard her mention terrorists, and danger. Less than two years after 9/11, and with festivities in Iraq in full swing, those two words alone were enough to make the most hot-blooded American cowboy reach for his security blanket. Sure enough, Finbarr found himself anxiously touching the kendama in his suit pocket as he watched the two people in front of him.

And those damn bells would not stop. Their sound grated on his nerves, howled through his bones, and seared his brain. He had to get out, run away, put an egg in his shoe and beat it, as they said when he was a kid. Anywhere was better than here. Anywhere that damn ringing would stop. He made for the door.

"Mr. Stoltenberg, wait!" Takahashi grabbed his arm. "We don't know what's happening. We should stay here and wait for word from the police."

Finbarr yanked his arm free and shook his head violently.

"No way. I gotta get out of here. Can't you hear it?" Takahashi winced, as if Finbarr had reminded him of something unpleasant. The woman had covered her ears and assumed the fetal position. Finbarr opened the door. The building was empty. Apart from Takahashi and the woman, everyone else must already have left. Finbarr intended to follow their example. He walked hastily to the automated doors and waited for them to open. The summer heat washed over him like the tides of hell, bringing with it a flood of noise. People screaming, car horns honking, a metallic screech as a taxi forced its way past a van parked on the side of the street. And the bells. Louder than ever, they filled the world. There was no discernible rhythm or melody to them, just a mad cacophony of church bells, like Sunday mass in Purgatory. Clapping his hands to his ears, Finbarr walked out onto the sidewalk in a daze. People zipped past him, weaving out of his way, all of them with empty eyes, looking at nothing, like panicked rats leaving a sinking ship. Finbarr looked the other way, in the direction the people were fleeing from, and his hands dropped powerless to his sides without him ever noticing. Then, as if drawn by an enormous magnet, he began walking against the flow of people, towards the incredible source of the deafening sound, still not believing his eyes. Not thinking about getting to safety. Not thinking anything at all.

"I hear… a sound." he whispered.

The bells rang loud and oppressive throughout Shinjuku, Tokyo. It was June 12th, 2003, and it was the beginning of the end.


	2. Insatiable Red

**Record No: ACR_1243407I9 "Insatiable Red"  
**

Punctual as always, she came walking around the corner, her black hair swaying with each step, her bright red backpack bouncing gently against her back. The large digital clock on the face of the post office read 14:25, the same time she always rounded this particular corner on the way home from school, and on this day, only 3 minutes and 13 seconds before the end of her life. Blissfully unaware of the events to come, the girl walked with a healthy spring in her step past the man who in only a few minutes would grab her arm and tell her not to panic, casting wild-eyed glances around them. Ignorance is bliss, as the saying goes, and on this sunny summer afternoon, there was none so ignorant of the darkness that lay ahead as nine year old Yoko Okazaki, who only wanted to go home.

Was it fate that set the chain of events in motion on that day? Perhaps it was God, or some other higher power. It may all have been planned, a devious scheme conceived by a twisted mind, for a purpose no sane mind could ever comprehend. Though later investigation would uncover at least a portion of the truth, all little Yoko ever knew was terror and madness, the likes of which no young child should ever have to witness. But reality, however nightmarish it may have seemed, showed her no mercy.

If a man can go insane with hatred, then Hidenari Miura was most likely far beyond the abilities of even the most advanced psychiatric care available. Raised since childhood by an abusive single father, having spent most of his preteen years forced to have incestuous relations with his sister while his father watched, Hidenari finally murdered his hated parent by pushing him down the stairs during one of his drunken stupors. It had been Hidenari's fourteenth birthday, and after that he and his sister had been taken in by their aunt, who shared their father's drinking habits, but who at least did not hit them. It was too late for Hidenari's sister, however. Plagued by nightmares of her deceased father, and the conflicted feelings for her brother, she could not endure the emotional and psychological pain. One year after moving in with her aunt, Mika Miura took her own life, and was found hanging in her bedroom by Hidenari. She was eleven years old. Until then, Hidenari's hatred had mainly consisted of hatred for his father for ruining their family, his mother for abandoning them before he could even remember, and the world for letting such parents exist. Now, it was compounded and intensified tenfold by hatred for himself. Standing there, in front of the lifeless corpse of his sister dangling from the improvised noose, like a dream catcher ripe with nightmares, he realized that he too bore responsibility for her suffering. For as a loyal dog may be turned into a vicious beast with a taste for blood, so had Hidenari acquired a hunger for his sister. All the years living with their father forced to engage in unspeakable acts of debauchery for his twisted pleasure had warped Hidenari's mind, and tainted his soul.

He felt nothing looking at any of the girls in school, thought little of the popular idols and actresses. But whenever he saw his little sister, his blood ran hot, and he felt both a tingling in his chest, and a throbbing sensation in his nether regions. He wanted her, and only her. He would love her forever, and protect her, and make her happy. So he thought. Finding her corpse erased the last sliver of light left in his blackened heart, and there was only darkness. Yet it is always easier to blame others rather than oneself, and after a while, Hidenari soon found himself beginning to hate even his sister. For had she not abandoned him as well, as their ever absent mother had? Had she not scorned the love he had given her, the sacrifices he had made for her sake, and denied him his one true joy? Lying awake in bed at night, listening to the trains rumbling by, his fingernails digging into the flesh of his palms hard enough to draw blood, that was what Hidenari told himself. And if he had to suffer like this, was it then not only right that the world should suffer as well? Relishing the sharp pain in his bleeding palms, Hidenari grinned bitterly. He would not suffer alone.

Over the next decade, Hidenari lived a double life. On one hand, he was an ordinary student who made good grades and eventually landed himself a job as an IT developer at a major company. He generally made a favorable impression on the people he met, coming across as an unassuming yet talented young man who acted politely, though perhaps slightly frosty at times. And then there was his other side. In private, Hidenari let his hatred free, indulging in a cruel and sadistic "hobby": Torture. It had started in high school, where he would bully and torment those unlucky few who could not fit in, feeding his warped sense of self-worth with their tears, and on some occasions, blood. He had started dating a younger girl, a few years older than his sister would have been, and began to systematically break her spirit, and molding her into an obedient slave. He experimented with ropes, clothespins, candles and riding crops, keeping his unfortunate partner subdued and compliant through blackmail, threats and manipulation. He would assure her of her inherent worthlessness, yet still profess his love for her as she obediently kneeled before him, and he took immense dark pleasure in the look in her eyes as she looked up at him. They were the eyes of a beaten puppy, looking up with love and devotion at its master in spite of his cruelty. He would go on like this until the last year of high school, when he one night showed her a video tape of himself having sex with a number of unknown girls, whom he had hooked up with in secret. He watched his girlfriend with anticipation, and was delighted to see shock and horror in her eyes, and felt himself grow hard.

"You really thought you were the only one, didn't you?" he said, and gently petted her hair, just as one would pet a puppy. The incredulous look on her face rapidly changed to one of utter despair.

He smiled and said:

"Of course you realize I was never satisfied just with you." She hung her head, and he could see tears falling from her eyes, landing in small puddles on the floor.

He told her to get out, and that he had no further use for her, adding that if she tried to tell anyone about their relationship, he would release the many photographs and video tapes he had taken of her to her parents, the school, everywhere. She left without a word, and did not show up to school the next day. He saw on the news the following night that she had killed herself by jumping in front of an oncoming train. That night, he had watched the videos of her and masturbated furiously, imagining her grief-stricken face in front of him as he ejaculated.

Hidenari carried on his sadistic ways through college, deriving pleasure from causing pain and suffering, the greater the better. He seduced many young women, ranging from high school girls to university graduates, spending time with them, gently easing them into a subservient commitment to him, only to dump them in the most cruel ways he could imagine. Some cried, others yelled at him, others simply walked out without a word. He would take great care to cast a wide net, so as not to allow rumours of his callous nature to spread and ruin his chances to charm more women. Between keeping up with his classes and managing this twisted social life, he barely had time to sleep at night. Even so, the pleasure he derived from hurting women both physically and emotionally seemed to rejuvenate him, compensating for his lack of sleep. After graduating from college and starting his job, he began soliciting girls for sexual favours. He would mainly target junior high school students, and look for girls that resembled his sister. Through the years, she had never quite left his mind, and with the financial security his job offered, Hidenari began to pursue his obsession in earnest, seeking in some desperate way to relive the days of his childhood, this time fully in control of the situation. Without realizing it, he was dooming himself to repeat the sins of his father. Unable to maintain long term relationships with such young partners, he contented himself with brief encounters in shady hotels, secluded parks, and other dark places far from prying eyes. He also had to take care not to go overboard with his sadistic tendencies, limiting himself to ropes and handcuffs, making sure not to leave any noticeable marks on the girls' bodies. These encounters always left him feeling excited and refreshed, as if they were his only means of sustenance, and afterward, he would gradually feel the hunger return, growing more and more urgent as the time went by. During this time he would scout for his next target, and make sure to keep a low profile. As always, he made sure to keep his area of operation wide, never showing his face in the same neighborhood more than once, to avoid recognition. He also made sure not to approach girls that were too young, as the risk of them being under supervision was high. This was where the main problem was. Hidenari was desperately trying to find a girl who resembled his dead sister. But because she had died at the age of eleven, and had always been of short stature due to malnutrition, he would not allow himself to target girls in the age group that most corresponded to her physique. He would watch them, though. On some of his days off he would walk by the elementary schools and cast furtive glances at the pupils as they left for home. Upon returning home he would resort to his extensive collection of pornography to sate his hunger, if only for a brief time. He somehow managed to keep himself in check. Until now.

He had first laid eyes on Yoko Okazaki in the beginning of April, 2003, and in a way, her fate was sealed from that very moment. Hidenari did a double take when he saw her, and almost tripped over his own feet. Following her at a distance, so as not to be discovered, he watched her furtively, confirming what he had thought was a hallucination. She was the very image of his sister, from the shape of her jaw to the length of her hair. She was slightly shorter than Mika had been, but apart from that, she might have been her twin. She might have been _her_. Hidenari carefully followed the girl all the way home, where he casually walked by and noted the name on the mailbox before slipping into a nearby convenience store and killed some time before leaving, taking note of the street names and landmarks along the way. His heart fluttered in his chest, and he felt light-headed. For a moment, he considered the possibility that it was all a trick of his imagination. Surely a girl so perfectly reminiscent of his sister could not really exist. But she did. He caught sight of her again the next day, as he stood in the same convenience store near her home pretending to read a magazine. She was real! In his excitement, he nearly dropped the magazine. After buying a pack of gum to keep up appearances, he headed back home and started planning. He knew it would be dangerous to try to kidnap a child off the streets, but he started making plans anyway. He had to have her.

And so, after two months of preparation, Hidenari now stood at the familiar street corner, checking his watch and waiting anxiously for the little girl to come walking by. He had observed her as often as he could, and had learned that she always walked home together with one of her friends. The friend, however, lived in a different part of town, and would take the bus further up the street. Yoko would part ways with her friend at the bus stop, and continue on her own the rest of the way home. That was the perfect opportunity for Hidenari to make his move. He knew it would be risky, and somewhere deep down he questioned his own sanity for the first time in his life. His phony police uniform may fool a small child, but what if the people around took notice and raised alarm? For that matter, what if an actual police officer showed up unexpectedly? Hidenari shook his head, and checked his watch again. The time was 14:25. She would be here any second now. She was always punctual. He would simply have to hope that the people hurrying along would not pay attention to him and the girl, and try to get her off the street and into the car, which he had prepared especially for this occasion, as soon as possible. After that, all he had to do was drug her, and make his way home. Where he would… But before he could slip into the sweet old daydream, Yoko came around the corner, punctual as always. Hidenari's breath caught in his throat. This was it. His ears were ringing. It sounded almost like church bells were chiming in his head.

He took a deep breath to steady his nerves, and looked up into the sky. That was when he saw it. His jaw dropped, and he stood frozen to the spot, staring up at the impossible. The sound of bells grew louder, and he thought to himself: "That's it. Now I really have gone insane."

However, he noticed people around him staring up at the sky as well, and even saw that a few of them were holding their hands over their ears. Was it real, then? How could it be? What sort of world would allow something like this to happen? Watching as the unbelievable form descended from the sky, Hidenari felt the last of his mind slip away.

He came to his senses, as if someone had slapped him across the face. The ground shook as the great object came crashing down, heralding destruction and panic in its wake. The sounds of people screaming and running for cover was all but drowned out by the impossibly loud sound of bells. Hidenari suddenly remembered why he was there, and scanned the sidewalk for the girl. There she was, standing immobile like many others, staring up at the gray _thing_ that had landed in the middle of the busy street. Hidenari walked briskly over to her, and grabbed her arm. She tore her eyes away from the grotesque form towering over the streets, and looked at him with terror shining in her eyes.

"Don't panic, sweetie! I'll take care of you. I'm a policeman, you see!" He looked around frantically, making sure nobody was paying attention to them. Nobody did, which was understandable given the circumstances. He tugged at the girl's arm, urging her to move along.

"It's a dragon." She said, her voice completely devoid of emotion. She reminded Hidenari of a woman he had seen on a variety TV show once. The woman had been hypnotized, and was made to reveal various bits of information about her family, which she recited in the same empty, deadpan voice. Hidenari had no idea by what she meant by "dragon", but what did it matter? He grunted in acknowledgement, and dragged the girl towards the alleyway where his car was waiting. Absurdly, he could feel a stiffy developing in his pants, and he thought again of all the things he would do once he got this girl, who looked so much like his dear sister, back to his home. She made no effort to resist him. All the while, she kept staring, presumably at her "dragon" or whatever she had said. Hidenari reached the alley and dragged her in. The moment he pulled the girl in with him, she shivered, and looked around, as if she had just woken up from a deep sleep.

"Where am I? What's happening? What's that sound? It's so loud, please make it stop!"

Hidenari hunkered down in front of her and gently placed a hand on her cheek. She looked at him with wide eyes. How much those eyes reminded him of Mika. It was exactly the way she had looked at him those times when they were kids, as he lay poised above her, hearing his father's excited breathing beside him. Hidenari felt a shiver run down his spine, and thought that he was going to burst. He spoke to her softly.

"There's some bad stuff going on. But don't worry, I will take you to a safe place. Just get in the car, and we'll go, ok?" He gestured towards the car, and stood up, beckoning for her to come with him. She took a few steps toward the car, then stopped.

"Why don't you have a police car?" She asked in a small voice. Hidenari grinned, looking more like a starving hyena than a friendly neighbourhood cop.

"I was on the way home in my private car, see. Now, come on!" He moved toward her, intent on grabbing her and throwing her in the car, and damn the consequences. He had not come this far to lose it all now. His member throbbed in his pants, and a thin string of saliva hung from the corner of his mouth. The girl suddenly shrieked and started to run further into the alley. It was not a dead end, and if she got out on the other side, he would not have a chance of catching her with all the people around. He ran after her, yelling for her to stop. The bells had grown steadily in volume, and his shouts could scarcely be heard over their hellish cacophony. Yoko ran as fast as she could, her dark hair flowing behind her like a veil. Even as he chased after her, Hidenari was struck by her beauty. Her hair looked so much like Mika's, always silky smooth and fragrant. He longed to feel that hair between his fingers, smelling it as he held the girl in a loving embrace. And then…

Hidenari caught up with her and made a grab for her backpack, but slipped. She lost her balance and fell down on the ground, skinning her knees. He was on her before she could even try to get to her feet. He pressed her down against the concrete and put his lips to her ears.

"You can't get away from me, Mika. I will always be here, and I will always protect you. All you have to do is love me, as I love you. Do you understand?" She struggled fruitlessly in his grip. He turned her over roughly and looked into her eyes, his broken mind now convinced that it was his sister lying underneath him. He could see tears welling up in her eyes.

"There, there. Don't cry, little sister. I'm here now, and I'll make it all better. I'll make you feel good again." He leaned down and began licking the tears off her face. So salty, yet so sweet! He could barely contain himself anymore. The bells were everywhere now, pounding at his muddled brain like iron hammers. He did not mind the sound anymore. In fact, it was rather soothing in a way. He gently caressed her, relishing the softness of her skin.

"Mika, if you only knew how I've missed you." He said, his voice shaking with emotion. Then he leaned down and kissed her on the lips.

The sound of an explosion rang out the instant he felt the sharp pain in his tongue. Once more, he felt himself come to his senses, and realized that the girl was biting him. Her mouth looked like a clown's exaggerated grin, and he knew it was his blood that had painted her lips red. He tried to pull his face away from her, but could not. She was biting his tongue! He tried to pry her jaws apart, but she was stuck in like a pitbull, biting down on his tongue even harder. His blood was now running down her cheeks, and made her look like a mad Kabuki actor, or a war-painted Native American. The pain was excruciating, and Hidenari desperately tried to get away from the girl, but no matter how hard he struggled, she would not let go. Until…

There was a final flash of intense pain that made drew a gray veil over Hidenari's vision, followed by a tearing sensation from inside his mouth. The girl made a disgusted face, and spat to the side. Hidenari stared in disbelief at the ground next to her head. There, in a small puddle of blood and spit, lay the tip of his tongue, like a discarded piece of pink chewing gum. He felt blood pouring from his mouth, the sharp pain of the girl's teeth in his tongue replaced by a dull, pulsing ache. He stared transfixed at his bitten-off tongue for a moment, then a red mist obscured most of his vision, and he saw only the silhouette of the girl's head as he grabbed her throat.

"You bikch!" He barked, his voice slurred by the blood in his mouth and his mutilated tongue. He lifted the girl's head up and slammed it into the ground. The bells sounded closer now, almost as if they really were ringing inside his head, and he screamed to make himself heard over them.

"I'll keach you ko fuck wih _me_!" He slammed the girl's head into the ground again, and again, pausing every now and then to punch her in the face. He was not even aware that she had long since stopped struggling, had even stopped breathing. He pounded on her corpse until he was exhausted, then hurled her aside like a ragdoll. He stood up, panting, looking at the broken body of Yoko Okazaki. How could he ever have thought she was his sister? His real sister loved him, and only him. She would never do something like that. This thought sent him into a new fit of rage, and he fell upon the body, intent on destroying it completely. The sound of bells was deafening.

When the police found Hidenari Miura in the alleyway some time later, the bells had long since fallen silent. The self-defense force had managed to shoot down the unidentified flying object, and the artifact had apparently ceased functioning. The only sound that could be heard was Hidenari laughing at the top of his voice, pieces of his victim scattered around him. It took 13 bullets to finally take him down. According to one of the officers who had survived the encounter, the man kept laughing the entire time, and had died with a grin on his face, his abnormally bloodshot eyes staring up into the empty sky.

This was not the only case of extreme violence reported in and around Shinjuku on that fateful day in June. Several others had been killed or wounded in attacks by people who appeared to have gone insane. All of the survivors reported the same thing.

"Their eyes were red."


	3. Bonds

**Record No: ACR_1881516E9 "Bonds"  
**

It started as just another day at the office. Ken waited impatiently for his computer to boot, once again cursing Accounting for not getting them some new machines. Many of them were still running Windows 98, for crying out loud! His foot tapping restlessly on the floor, he watched as the startup screen finally switched to the login screen, prompting him to input his user name and password. He cracked his knuckles, a habit his wife always chastised him for, and tapped away at the keyboard. Then began the second waiting period, as the computer began the laborious process of actually displaying the icons on the desktop. Ken swiveled his office chair around, and looked out the window. Say what you like about the standards of this company, but they sure did have a perfect location. From the office on the 8th floor, Ken enjoyed a splendid view of central Shinjuku, all sleek, shiny skyscrapers and majestic stone structures. Looking out at the sprawling cityscape of Tokyo spread out around him, he always felt a surge of pride for the human race. All this architecture, the technology, this immaculate order, had been born from the minds of the most intelligent species on the planet. A species that was physically weak, yet capable of harnessing nature and shape the world as they saw fit. In a way, humans really were the gods of their age. Ken knew that all of this probably sounded like so much elitist masturbatory drivel, but damn if it didn't at least take his mind off the godforsaken computer, its cooling fan whirring away as the machine prepared for another long day of sitting on the desk being tickled by the sweaty fingertips of its master. Finally the desktop showed up in all its 256-color glory, and Ken started his working day by checking his inbox. For once there was nothing too urgent he needed to concern himself with there, and he opened the document he had started writing the day before feeling a little better. Answering emails always made him feel exhausted, in a way talking to people on the phone or face to face never did. He preferred to hear the voice, and preferably see the face of the person he was communicating with. Humming a simple little tune, he scrolled down through the pages of his presentation, which was due the following day. He had had a sudden flash of inspiration in the bath the night before, and was eager to get started. But, just as he poised his fingers over the keyboard, like a pianist about to begin a concert, someone tapped him on the shoulder. He jumped in his chair and banged his knee into the underside of the desk with a loud metallic clang.

"Whoa, sorry! I didn't mean to scare you." His coworker Takanobu looked at him with a wary look in his eyes.

"I know man, but could you at least, I don't know, make some noise when you walk? You're like a damn ninja, you know?" Ken said, rubbing his sore knee. At this, Takanobu grinned and playfully nudged Ken in the ribs. He looked extraordinarily pleased with himself.

"Yeah well, this ninja got lucky the other day." He tapped his nose and winked.

"What? You win the lottery or something?" Ken snorted, knowing full well what was coming, it had been the sole subject of conversation between them the last two weeks, and judging by Takanobu's smug look, he had finally scored.

"I sure hit one kind of Jackpot, that's for sure!" He chuckled. "Me and Ikumi finally did it last night!" There it was, just as Ken had suspected. Ikumi, one of the girls from Accounting, had been dating Takanobu for the last month, and lately, Takanobu had been going on and on for what seemed like an eternity about how great their relationship was, and how they really "got" each other. This would usually segue into a rant on how she still would not even let him touch her breasts, much less "give her the D", as he so tastefully put it. Ken, married for two years, found these rants quite boring, but humored his young colleague by listening and giving him a word of advice every now and then, mostly simple stuff like "be yourself", "don't rush things", and "no, I think you should hold off on broaching the subject of threesomes for the moment". Takanobu really seemed to look up to Ken, just short of calling him "big bro" and adopting the same hair style.

"Congratulations, buddy." He said, surprised at himself when he actually smiled earnestly at his friend's romantic success. What the hell, the kid was alright. Takanobu beamed.

"Man, she was something else, I tell you. Wow! You should have seen it!"

"I think I'll pass, if it's all the same to you." Ken said, desperately trying to block out the sudden visions of Takanobu getting his freak on. "Since you're on such good terms with her, why don't you ask her if she can set me up with a new computer? This old hunk of junk is just about ready for the trash heap." He jerked his head at the computer on the desk. Takanobu threw an improvised salute.

"Roger! I shall interrogate the target upon successful insertion!"

"Takanobu?"

"Yes?"

"Don't get your hopes up on becoming a successful standup comedian someday, ok?"

Takanobu laughed and punched Ken lightly on the shoulder.

"Whatever, man. I'm just really happy."

Ken nodded. He knew that feeling, and still felt it every time he came home and heard the rattling of cutlery from the kitchen, and the sweet voice of his wife welcoming him home. He felt it when he saw her come out and greet him, her belly seeming to grow bigger day by day, and when he laid his head against it, whispering softly to the new life growing within: "I'm home". Ken smiled happily.

* * *

Suddenly realizing that he had work to do, Takanobu left Ken to go say hello to the woman of his dreams before heading up to the R&D department on floor 10. He adopted his signature silent walk on the way, stealthily approaching Ikumi, who was shuffling through a heap of papers on her desk. Ken was easy, he always got so caught up in his work that he wouldn't notice if the sky came crashing down. But Ikumi always seemed to know when Takanobu was around. No matter how quietly he moved, she would always turn around and greet him, her radiant smile making her even more beautiful. It was almost as if she had a sixth sense to detect his presence. Regardless, Takanobu liked a challenge. He had beaten Metal Gear Solid 2 without a single Alert, after all, and sneaking up on Ikumi was his Holy Grail. If he could do that, he would retire from his stealth career, satisfied in knowing that he was the best around. He stalked up towards Ikumi, holding his breath. He was only inches away when she suddenly turned around and smiled at him.

"Hey there, handsome." She said, giggling at his long face. "Oh, don't look so glum. I always know when you're near. It's my special power." She waggled her eyebrows and smirked. Takanobu laughed, and cast a furtive glance around. There was nobody else nearby. Ikumi looked as if she was perfectly aware of this, and took a step closer. He kissed her on the lips, his hand sliding smoothly down her back toward her buttocks.

"Not here, darling. The walls have ears." She kindly, but firmly moved his hand away from her butt. He sighed and whispered in her ear.

"I just can't wait for this workday to be over." She giggled again, a sound that sent shivers of anticipation down his spine.

"I'm off early today, so I'll be waiting at your place, okay?" With a seductive smile, she added: "I'll keep the bed warm for you." Takanobu swallowed, producing a comical noise that made Ikumi laugh.

"Anyway, I have to get these invoices filed. See you at lunchtime?"

"Sure. I think Ken might join us."

"Great. The baby's coming pretty soon, isn't it? He must be so excited."

"He sure doesn't show it. He's what you'd call the strong, silent type."

"And here I thought you were supposed to be the silent one."

"Spare me. I have gone beyond mere silence. I am a shadow."

She gave him a peck on the cheek.

"See you later, Shadow."

"Later!"

Takanobu waved goodbye as the elevator doors closed, ignoring the looks he got from the other passengers. As he waited for the elevator to reach the 10th floor, he thought about Ikumi. God, she really lit up the world! Happy as a clam, Takanobu got off the elevator and walked down the corridor, his mind on the coming evening, his head far up in the clouds.

* * *

Suppressing a laugh as Takanobu waved like a schoolboy through the closing elevator doors, Ikumi picked up the pile of invoices from her desk and headed to the filing cabinets on the opposite side of the office. She too was in an exceptionally good mood, and her mind kept wandering back to last night, when she and Takanobu had made love for the first time. He was the third guy she had ever slept with, and definitely the most considerate lover. He had explored every inch of her body, touching and feeling her, finding ways to please her that she had never even thought possible. Sure, once he put it in and got going he only lasted for about a minute, but what the hell. There would be plenty of time for improvement. Besides, she had rather enjoyed the feeling of him inside of her, and was quite excited at the prospect of doing it again, and she did not need any woman's intuition to know that Takanobu was even more so.

In the meantime, there was work to do. She shook the enticing thoughts of lovemaking off her mind and started filing the invoices, making sure to put them in chronological order, ticking them off on her list as she went. She sometimes wondered why it was necessary to do all this, since all invoices were stored electronically anyway, but she was not one to rock the boat. It beat having nothing to do, at least. Having filed the last of the invoices, Ikumi stretched her arms and looked at the clock. Already 10:40. Not bad for mindless work. She went over to the coffee machine and got a cup of black coffee which she took with her to her desk. The hot liquid felt good going down, and she leaned back, closing her eyes for a second.

"Looks like someone's got the world on a string."

Startled, Ikumi opened her eyes and turned around. Her coworker and friend Yukiko was standing right next to her, also with a cup of coffee in her hand. Ikumi was once again puzzled by her own senses. She had told Takanobu that she could always tell when he was near, that it was her special power. It had been her little joke, of course, but sometimes she felt as if she really did have such a power. She never felt anything when anyone else was near. Maybe she actually had extrasensory perception. The thought made her smile.

"And now it looks like someone finally went the whole way last night." Yukiko sipped her coffee, smugly surveying Ikumi over the rim of the cup. "I can tell."

"That's none of your business, thank you very much." Ikumi said haughtily, her face growing red even as she spoke.

"Oh loosen up, will you? In a figurative sense, I mean." Yukiko sat down on the edge of the desk and grinned at Ikumi. "So how was he? Big? Small? Did he make you suck it? Was it good?"

Ikumi held out a hand and vigorously shook her head.

"One question at a time, and I reserve the right to refuse to answer." With a conspiratorial wink, she added: "And yes, he was pretty big."

Yukiko brayed laughter and slapped her thigh, almost spilling coffee all over her skirt.

"Well aren't you the lucky one?" She exclaimed. "I hope he knew how to use it, though.

Nothing more frustrating than a good-sized dong if he can't work it like he should, eh?"

"What's your obsession with…" Ikumi hesitated. She was used to Yukiko's off-color humor, but had never been entirely comfortable uttering such things herself. "…with dongs, anyway?" She felt her face grow even redder, and cringed as Yukiko let out another hoarse cascade of laughter.

"Why, what else is there to obsess about with men?" Yukiko asked after her laughter subsided. She took a sip of coffee, and spoke again, with more composure.

"Seriously, though, you should be happy. You just mind your man now, you hear? He may be all over you now, and you might even get annoyed with him from time to time, but all that will change. Take it from me. If you're not careful, soon enough he's gonna start coming home later and later, and you'll smell the unfamiliar perfume on his collar, see the marks of love bites and lipstick on him. And just like that, it's all over." She nodded sagely, taking another gulp of coffee. Ikumi stared at her. This was a side of Yukiko she had never seen before.

"I… I had no idea… Was your husband cheating on you?" Yukiko smiled. It was a kind, but weary smile, and it made her look older, somehow. Almost like a grandmother, Ikumi thought, and reminded herself not to say that out loud.

"He was. When I confronted him about it, he said I never made him feel like a man anymore. Said she knew what he really wanted. Can you believe that? Well I tell you, I wasn't always the crazed old nymphomaniac you know and love." She chuckled at Ikumi's expression. "It's true! When I married my husband, I vowed to be the perfect wife, and that included being 'pure' and 'virtuous', you know what I mean, right?" Ikumi nodded.

"So I hardly ever made any moves on him, see? I thought that he was the one to do that, being the man and all. In the end, I was never satisfied, and he felt unappreciated. Lesson learned: Societal expectations can go take a shit on themselves." Ikumi nearly sprayed her coffee as Yukiko said this. Societal expectations indeed!

"That whole experience really put me off men for a while. We got divorced, and I just lived on my own. Occasionally I'd feel the urge, and then I'd go out on the town looking for a suitable guy to scratch my itch. But I never had a long-term relationship ever since. I love a good lay, but men in general? No thanks." She finished her coffee and peered at Ikumi, as if expecting her to say something. Ikumi felt as if she was being tested, somehow. She put down her cup and spoke.

"So basically, it's all about being honest with each other, isn't it? If I want to… to sleep with my man, I should tell him so, and not wait for him to make the first move."

"Sounds like a sound plan, sweetie. And if he thinks that makes you a slut, that's his problem."

"Why would he think that?"

"Well, I don't really know him, but some men can be awfully old-fashioned."

"He's not like that. He would never despise me for wanting to make love."

"That's nice. You take care of him, you hear? I may be a cynic myself, but I sincerely hope that you two will be happy together. There's too little love in the world these days. Too much hate." She shook her head and smiled. "But enough about that. Got some time to kill until lunch. You wanna eat together?"

"If you don't mind a certain someone joining in."

"Just keep your PDA's to a minimum. I may be a horny old bitch, but even I have standards."

"Then I assume you will refrain from interrogating him about the size of his… you know."

"No guarantees there, sweetie."

"I should have known."

* * *

At 12:10, the four of them sat down at a table in the cafeteria. Ken had his lunchbox that his wife had made for him. He opened it with a stern look on his face, as if daring anyone to make a clever comment on the pink Hello Kitty box in front of him. Takanobu had a pair of big sandwiches, crammed full of turkey, lettuce, tomato, cucumber, and almost swimming in dressing. Ikumi had brought a cup of instant noodles from home, and was stirring it as she sat down, a pleasant smell rising from the cup along with a plume of steam. Yukiko set down a tray laden with three rice balls and a cup of yoghurt. She immediately started talking to Takanobu, firing off question after question about his hobbies, favorite food, what he and Ikumi usually got up to in their free time (here Ikumi shot her a warning look, which she deliberately ignored), how they had met, and if they were planning on getting married.

Ken quietly ate his food, and watched the conversation around him. Takanobu seemed flustered by all the questions, but he and Yukiko seemed to hit it off quite well, regardless. Ken looked out the window at the bustling lunchtime city, feeling content with himself. His presentation was nearly finished, and it had turned out even better than he expected. Now all that remained was to rehearse and prepare to woo the higher-ups the next day. The thought made him slightly nervous, but he still felt that he could do it. Finishing his lunch, he leaned back in his chair and sighed. It sure was a good day. He thought about his wife and unborn child waiting for him at home, and felt a wave of warmth wash through his heart. Yes, it was a good day. Life was good.

* * *

At 14:12, life was still good for Ken and Takanobu, who were up on the roof for a quick smoke. Ken had quit smoking when he learned that his wife was pregnant, but he accompanied Takanobu to the roof anyway, just to shoot the shit for a few minutes. He leaned against the high railing and looked up at the blue summer sky. It was hot, but he was not too bothered by that. He relished the warm sunlight on his face, and listened to Takanobu talking about – who else? – Ikumi.

"She's going home early today, and she said she'd have a treat for me when I got back. Damn, I can't wait!" He blew a jet of smoke into the air, and crushed his cigarette into a nearby ashtray. He stretched his back and swung his arms a few times. "Well, back to work. I hope they won't make us work overtime today. Now that would be just my luck, huh?"

"I'm sure the lady will wait for you." Ken winked at Takanobu, who grinned and then started walking to the elevator.

"I hope so. See you later, okay?"

"See ya."

But he never did.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Ken once again sat down at his desk and checked his inbox. There was little of interest. A memo about the new cover sheets for the TPS reports, an announcement that the CEO's dog had died (as if anyone in the company really cared, Ken thought), and a few cc's that were not really important. He closed the email client and stared out the window for a while. The afternoon city looked just as majestic as ever, the sun reflecting off the glass and steel of the high-rise buildings, cars trundling along the streets like busy ants, the small shapes of people walking on the sidewalks and across the plazas, their movements like the splitting and regeneration of cells that made up the body of the sprawling metropolis. Ken was again overwhelmed with a feeling of pride for humanity. To think that we have created all of this. He sighed contentedly and looked up to the sky. And saw madness, descending.

For a second that seemed to drag out for hours, the world almost slowing to a standstill, Ken sat immobilized in his office chair, staring out the window. He could not believe his eyes. He blinked hard, twice, to clear the impossible vision from his retinas, but it was no good. It was still there, and it was falling towards the street right outside the building. He stared, trying to take in what he saw. It looked like an enormous statue made of stone, grey and smooth, in the shape of a nude woman, almost as big as the Statue of Liberty, which he had seen on his honeymoon in New York. It was falling from what looked like a shining hole suspended in mid-air, as if there was a _crack_ in reality itself. As he watched, more and more of the statue-thing became visible, appearing like a string of handkerchiefs from a magician's top hat. Now the whole thing was through, and he could see that the head of the statue was bald, its plain countenance drawn into a hideous grimace, a stone tongue hanging down all the way to the neck. Gooseflesh broke out over his entire body. It was the most appalling object Ken had ever seen in his life, and its mere existence in this world was an abomination. He stared with horror and disgust as the unspeakable form descended. It struck the ground with a deafening rumble, as if the earth itself roared in protest at the intrusion of this most alien object. The ground shook, and Ken faintly heard people screaming "earthquake" behind him. Outside, people simply screamed. Cars and trucks were piling up, many of them crushed under the statue, others running into it before they had time to stop. Horrified, Ken looked down at the destruction in the street below, at the wrecked cars and broken bodies, at the survivors frantically running away from the nightmarish scene behind them. Because of this, he barely even registered the other object that had slipped through the now closing crack in the air. The sound of huge wings beating the air could briefly be heard over the carnage in the streets. Shortly, it was drowned out by another sound. The sound of bells.

* * *

"What the fuck is that noise?!" Takanobu clapped his hands to his ears and stared out at the impossible scene. The statue had landed in the middle of the street, causing a massive pile-up of vehicles. A number of them were on fire. Whether the fire department were on their way to put them out was anyone's guess; no sirens could be heard over the incessant tolling of the bells. Takanobu had absolutely no clue what was going on, but he was almost sure of two things. One: The sound of bells, which sounded like a Sunday mass from hell, was definitely coming from that grotesque statue. Two: Whatever that thing was, it did not belong here. It should not exist. There was nothing he could do about either of these facts. He just stood there, watching as the world he thought he knew crumbled, and the maws of hell opened below.

That was when he saw the dragon. He could not come up with any other word for the thing that was now circling the gigantic statue, its great wings flapping up and down in a steady rhythm, its tail beating in unison. It was a great red dragon, which brought to mind the works of William Blake, and he thought he could faintly make out someone mounted on its back, right above the joints of its massive wings.

The dragon maintained a steady distance from the statue as it circled it. Occasionally a flash of light would emanate from the statue in the shape of a ring, expanding rapidly. As it approached the dragon, another flash of light appeared, each one accompanied by an even louder chiming of the unseen bells. Looking at the bizarre scene made Takanobu's head throb, and no matter how hard he pressed his hands to his ears, the bells seemed to keep growing louder and more oppressive, almost as if they were ringing inside his own head. He looked around him, seeing most of his coworkers also covering their ears, many of them staring out at the insane scenery outside.

"This is real." He said to nobody in particular, not even caring that his voice could not be heard over the infernal cacophony. "It's not all in my head. Everyone's seeing this. Dear God…"

A blood-curdling scream, audible even over the bells, suddenly made him turn around. Yukiko was there, stumbling towards him, her hands over her ears, her face a mask of agony.

"It won't stop! Oh God, I can hear the sound! Please, no more! I don't want to! My head! Oh, my head!" Wailing and thrashing, she broke into a run towards Takanobu, who was frozen in place.

She was no longer speaking any coherent words, her screams simply ran together into a slurred mess, a freakish tune of shrill screams interspersed with guttural grunts and roars.

Takanobu was dimly aware of other people in the office beginning to scream, and was still in a dazed state when Yukiko tackled him at speed, her arms locking around his body, her legs almost horizontal in the air behind her. Then they struck the window, shattering it, and fell toward the ground 10 floors below. Takanobu had cut himself badly on the jagged shards of glass of the broken window, but he hardly felt a thing. He did not even feel Yukiko's teeth sink into his shoulder, tearing through fabric, skin and muscle, and tearing out a sizeable chunk of his flesh. He just stared as she spat it out and opened her mouth wide to go for his jugular, blood smeared all over her lips and her chin, making her look like she had been pigging out on spaghetti Bolognese. Her eyes were red, as if she had been swimming in a chlorinated pool. Behind her, above them, he could see the dragon still circling the statue, and over the ringing bells, he thought he could hear the distant roar of a jet engine.

"Great, the cavalry's coming." He thought, and thought no more.

* * *

Ikumi hugged the sofa cushion tighter to her chest, and stared with tear-swollen eyes at the gruesome images on the TV screen. They had been running the same footage over and over, and the images kept repeating in a mad pattern that made Ikumi feel faint. What in the world was happening? The voice of the newscaster talked over the images.

"…and as you can see, the unidentified object landed on top of Tokyo Tower, where it has come to a halt. The shape and structure of the object has led to the presumption that it is biological in nature, and may be a new type of biological weapon, or a member of a heretofore undiscovered species. Meanwhile, reports have come in that the artifact that appeared in Shinjuku around 14:30 today has begun to rapidly deteriorate, and the reported noise that accompanied its appearance seems to have ceased. Police are cooperating with the Ministry of Defense to investigate the properties of the unidentified objects, and have placed a large portion of Shinjuku under temporary quarantine. The local fire department is currently working to extinguish fires in the area around Shinjuku, and evacuate injured civilians from the area. Residents in the area are advised to remain indoors until further notice. The Prime Minister has not yet been reached for comment on the situation, and…"

Ikumi muted the volume as the TV once again showed the image of the bizarre creature impaled on the top of Tokyo Tower, its blood painting the tower red. She picked up her cell phone and called Takanobu's number for the ninth time since turning on the TV and seeing the dreadful news. No signal. Either his phone was turned off, or there was simply too much traffic on the grid for her call to get through. She put her phone down next to her on the sofa, and began to cry. She was sick to her stomach with worry, and almost had to throw up again. What was happening to the world? Why was it all happening? Where was Takanobu? If only she could hear his voice again!

She sat there, staring at the silent TV, listening to the sounds of traffic from outside, waiting for something to happen. When nothing did, she picked up her cell phone again and called Takanobu's number. No response. Nothing at all. Ikumi sat on the sofa, staring blankly into space.

She did not get up to turn on the lights even after night fell, and remained where she was, alone in the darkness.


	4. Speculation

**Record No: ACR_1994533R7 "Speculation"  
**

"I think it was aliens."

"Oh, give me a break, man. Aliens? Really?"

"How else would you explain it?"

"Shit, I don't know!"

"My dad says it was a terrorist attack. You know, like in New York a few years ago."

"I saw that on the news! Those planes just went BAM! right into the towers!"

"No, it couldn't have been terrorists. It doesn't make sense."

"What do you know about it? Maybe they had some new secret weapon. You know people still aren't allowed to enter that part of town, right? Tokyo Tower is like a ghost town now, dude. A ghost town full of lunatics."

"No, that's not what I meant. Even if a terrorist group had some new secret weapon that could turn people crazy or whatever, no one's claimed responsibility for this attack. What kind of terrorist would blow something up and then not say that it was them?"

"Makes more sense than aliens, anyway."

…

"I heard the crazy one's eyes are all red, like demons."

"Yeah right! You never saw one of them!"

"I heard it from my neighbor, Mr. Ikehata. He was there when it happened, and he saw them! He also said that they chase after you and eat you alive…"

"Dammit, Ikehata's half-crazy himself! He probably dreamt all of it."

"Then how come so many people are still in quarantine, huh?"

"Duh, because they're sick, dummy. That weird statue thing probably had some sort of gas in it that made everyone sick, and all that stuff about crazy people is just a rumor."

"What about the dragon, though? I bet that was some kind of secret experiment that went wrong."

"No, I think that was one of the aliens. It brought that weird statue thing with it and was going to change our atmosphere so that the aliens could live here and take over the planet."

"You've read too many comics, dude!"

"Oh, that's my phone. Hang on a sec! Hello? Hi, mom. Just hanging with some friends. Yeah. Okay, I will. Bye. Sorry guys, I gotta go. Mom wants me to pick up some milk on the way home."

"See you at school tomorrow."

"Yeah. See ya!"

…

"If it really was aliens, they weren't so tough. It got shot down in no time at all!"

"They probably weren't expecting any resistance. But now they know us, and when they come back, they're gonna be a lot more dangerous."

"You know, I think Takeru had a good idea. Maybe it was a secret science experiment that went wrong. Maybe that dragon was a mutated lizard or something, like Godzilla."

"Yeah, but what about the statue? Stone doesn't mutate, you know."

"So maybe there were two different experiments."

"And they both just happened to show up in the middle of Shinjuku all of a sudden? Nuh-uh."

"Get this: What if they were in Shinjuku the whole time? Hidden in some underground research facility or something."

"There's nothing under Shinjuku but subway lines. No, they even said on the news that the statue fell from the sky."

"So maybe they were researching these, you know, alternate dimensions or something, right? And something sort of _came through_ to our dimension?"

"Yeah, I think it was kinda like that, but I think the aliens sent it here. We don't have that kind of technology."

"What if we do, only it's been kept a secret?"

"But… Okay, maybe that could be it. But what are the odds of something like that happening? There could be thousands, millions of other dimensions and worlds out there. Are you saying this whole thing was just some sort of stupid accident?"

"Well, sometimes weird shit happens that no one can explain."

"Man, that sucks."

"I don't know… I mean, if it had been aliens like you said, they would've come back again and made us all their slaves. If it was just an accident, all we have to do is rebuild all the stuff that got destroyed and then we don't have to worry about it anymore."

"When you put it like that, yeah, I guess you've got a point."

"Right? Anyway, I gotta get going. My dad'll kill me if I miss soccer practice one more time."

"See you tomorrow."

"Yeah, bye!"

…


	5. Interference

**Record No: N/A "Interference"  
**

Source: Unidentified audio recording

Point of origin: Unknown

_/Archivist's Note: The unidentified voice that can be heard in the recording was nearly unintelligible due to unexplained static in the original recording. The below transcription is based on a digitally enhanced version of the recorded audio. The origin of the voice remains to be investigated.  
_

_/Note End_

Audio Start

[Sounds of traffic and faint voices of people]

"Is this the land of the Gods?"

[A loud rumbling crash, followed by metallic screeches and car horns. People screaming]

[Sounds of church bells]

"What is this… this thing? What can we do?"

[Church bells increase in volume and number. This noise carries on for approximately 2 minutes]

[Loud rumbling noises like rocks rolling down a mountainside]

"It is done! At last…"

[Two loud explosions are heard, and the audio cuts off]

_/Archivist's Note: The two explosions heard before the end of the audio recording confirmed to be missiles launched by 303__rd__ Division Fighter Jet _

_(See Rec No: A-L_63901)_

_/Note End_

Audio End


	6. Intervention

**Record No: A-L_63901 "Intervention"  
**

Source: Flight recording of 303rd Division Fighter Jet F-15, codename Scarface One

Point of origin: Airspace above the Tokyo Metropolitan Area

Audio Start

"Unidentified target in sight. Missiles ready."

"You are cleared to fire, Scarface One."

"Roger. Launching missiles."

[…]

"This is Scarface. Confirmed hit on the unidentified target. Target appears to be falling towards Kasumigaseki."

"Acknowledged. Return to base for debriefing."

"What in the world was that thing…?"

"Scarface One, maintain radio silence."

"Roger. Scarface One, signing off."

Audio End


	7. Remnant

**Epilogue "Remnant"**

With a sigh, I close the thick volume on the table in front of me. There are so many books here, so much knowledge, yet the beginning of it all, the actual reason for why the world turned out the way it did, lies shrouded in mystery. We know that a mysterious entity, commonly referred to as "The Artifact" suddenly appeared in the city of Tokyo, Japan in the year 2003, and that it over the coming years slowly poisoned the world. Where it came from, or what purpose it served, is still uncertain. Popular theories say that it was an object from another world, another dimension, and that its crossing into our reality was an extremely improbable accident. Other more radical beliefs argue that the Artifact was sent intentionally, to punish humanity for its sins. Some even claim that it was a living being. I don't know what is true, and I suppose by now it really doesn't matter anymore. There is so little left of humanity by now, and what little remains is slowly dying. Soon mankind will be gone from this world, and all that will be left is… them. Pitiful creatures they are, with no place in this world. But they will not last long either. In the end, all will fade, and only the rust-eaten ruins will bear witness to the legacy of this most achieved and most foolish species.

But I'm ranting again. What's the use burying myself in the past, anyway? All of that happened so very long ago. Now, nobody even remembers the name "Tokyo", and if I tried to tell them about the splendour of the giant cities of yore, with buildings so tall they scraped the skies, I am sure they would throw their heads back and laugh. Maybe all this knowledge is a curse, after all. Perhaps it would be better to simply forget it all and live out the rest of our days in relative peace. I could go down to the tavern and sing like I used to. I haven't sung in such a long time.

The door to my study opens, and my sister enters.

"Still sitting in here, I see. It's a lovely day, you should come outside for a bit."

I smile at her. My sweet sister. I don't know what I would do without her.

"Maybe I will. I just need to finish up in here first."

"That's good. Some sunshine would do you good." She turns to leave, then stops as if she suddenly remembered something.

"Oh, by the way, we're just about out of herbs. You need those, don't you?"

"I do. I'll go down to the market later and get some."

"Why don't you let him do it? You know how eager he is to make himself useful around here."

"Ah yes, good idea. Do ask him to stop by if you see him, will you?"

"Sure thing. It's more for his sake than ours anyway."

"His sake… and hers." My sister tilted her head and looked at me with gentle eyes.

"You worry about her."

"Don't you? You know what her symptoms mean."

"Well there isn't much to do about it, is there? No sense worrying about it."

"I wish I could see it that way."

She closes the door behind her, and I listen to the sound of her footsteps shrinking away down the stairs. Yes, she has a point. With things being what they are, there is no way for us to set things right for the little girl, or for anyone else. It has gone on for too long, and at this rate, it will keep going until…

I push the thought away. It is not over yet. Many years have passed, and the time is almost at hand. Maybe we will succeed, after all. Maybe humanity will survive this crisis in the end. I will simply have to do my best. Maybe if I told him the truth, he would be able to help. No, too risky. He is more apt to do something foolish and ruin it all. Best to keep quiet for now, and keep playing this uncertain game. I have never been one to hope for miracles, but there is still hope. No matter how faint.

We still have hope, don't we?

Don't we?

* * *

**/Author's notes:**

_First of all, thank you for reading. This is the first real piece of fiction I have written, outside of school assignments many years ago. I hope you enjoyed story is based on the Japanese version of Drakengard, which differs slightly from the English one ("Scarface" is a reference to Ace Combat)._  
_Please leave a review and tell me what you think. I would greatly appreciate some criticism and feedback. Until next time!_


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